


Bad Ending: Batgirl

by gregdonovan



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Drug Addiction, F/F, F/M, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11475531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gregdonovan/pseuds/gregdonovan
Summary: Based on the Bad Ending: Batgirl drawing by Sabunegedo: http://thesabu.com/comic/batgirls-bad-ending-ive-got-batgirl-in-my-basement/This story features non-consensual sex and violence towards women.Batgirl is caught in a trap set by Batman's worst enemies.It's going to be a long night for her.





	1. Baiting the Trap

Bad Ending: Batgirl

The night had started out like normal for Batgirl. As normal as nights were for a girl who dressed up in a bat costume before going out and punching people in the face. She had met up with Bruce in his mancave - or Batcave as he liked to call it. But, really, who was he fooling?

"I have a task for you, Barbara," Batman said. Batgirl tilted her head at the use of her real name. Bruce only used that when he was going to ask her to do something especially difficult. Or dangerous. Bruce was dressed in his usual nightly attire of full cape and costume, with the cowl pushed back, leaving his face uncovered. He was standing before the Batcave's computer, watching the scroll of information flash by on the huge bank of monitors in front of him. A camera feed from the Gotham dockyards was playing on one. 

"A drug shipment is being smuggled into Gotham, tonight," Batman said, looking at the monitors and manipulating the controls for the computer. "It will be arriving on the Libyan flagged cargo ship 'Fool's Errand' sailing out of Belize. That shipment must be intercepted, Barbara."

"What kind of drug is it?" Batgirl asked.

"I haven't been able to find out with certainty," Batman said. "Whatever it is, it's coming in a small package but is extremely valuable. Expect lots of security at the dockyards. You'll be handling this one solo, Barbara. Dick and I will be busy elsewhere. Are you up to the task?"

"You know I am."

Batman turned and studied her face. The light from the monitors left half his face in light and the other half in darkness. 

"We shall see, Barbara. We shall see." 

Batgirl found herself sneaking into a warehouse at the Gotham dockyards later that night. The dockyards were busy, bustling with activity as cargo ships from countries all over the world had their contents unloaded. Batgirl had used the commotion of the docks to sneak in, hooking her grapple-gun to an unused crane overhead and swinging inside the dockyard's fenced perimeter. The dock workers were busy with the tasks in front of them and had the natural human tendency not to look upwards, making it easy for her to move around unnoticed. 

The warehouse the Fool's Errand's cargo had been off-loaded into was now almost directly below her, visible in the green-glow of her night-vision binoculars. There wasn't much activity going on that she could see. Two guards were walking outside the building and one more was on the roof as a lookout. The guards spent more of their time smoking and looking at their phones than actually watching for trouble. Batgirl smiled. This was going to be easy. 

She silently descended to the warehouse roof using her grapple gun and took the guard down with a blow to his head. She opened a window on the roof and quietly dropped down to a catwalk above the main floor of the warehouse. She looked for the cargo that Batman had described but the warehouse looked empty. No, there was a single cargo crate on a pallet near the wall across from her.

Batgirl hooked her grapple gun to the catwalk and then carefully scanned for any guards inside. A TV cast a glow out an open door of a small guard shack inside the warehouse. She could see a man's boots propped up on a table inside and the pungent stink of marijuana drifted out the door. Other than that, the warehouse looked clear. Batgirl decided to risk it. She could make it to the crate, get the package and be back outside without getting spotted. 

She carefully descended to the floor, quietly reeling out the rope in her grapple gun, then swiftly padded over to the wooden crate. There was a padlock securing the lid, which she quickly opened with a lock-pick pulled from her belt. She flipped the lid open, cringing at the squeaking hinges. She shot a glance at the guard shack but the man inside did not appear to have noticed the noise.

Batgirl sorted through the packages of wrapped cheese inside that Batman had said were being used as cover for the real cargo. It had taken all her willpower not to make a joke about cutting the cheese. She sifted through until she found the black box that Batman had told her was the target. The box was rectangular, about the size of a cigar box, and had a stylized logo of a cobra spitting venom on the lid. Batgirl's eyebrows rose in surprise. Given the logo and the fact the cargo was coming from South America, it seemed very likely Bane was involved in this. 

She made a quick scan of the warehouse, making sure she was still unspotted. She decided to take a quick peek inside the box and then make her retreat out of the warehouse. She flipped the hinged lid open. There was a pop sound and flash of intensely bright light, followed by a cold spray of some kind of chemical right into Batgirl's face. She dropped the box and stumbled backwards, her eyesight blinded and her mouth filled with a taste of cherries. 

She spit out the taste in her mouth as she ran towards the catwalk she had descended. She fumbled at her belt for her grapple gun with hands that were quickly growing numb. Her eyesight was mainly just blobs of light and she could feel a coldness descending down her spine. She managed to pull the grapple gun from her belt but a hammering blow to her back slammed her to the ground. The gun went spinning across the floor, far out of reach. 

"Hiyaa!"

Batgirl recognized her assailant's voice. Harley Quinn. She turned her head and could see the legs of Quinn's red bodysuit. She swung her arm out, trying to swipe Quinn's feet out from under her but Quinn back-flipped away.

"What's the matter Batdyke? You're moving kind of slow. Bloated from eating all that cheese?"

Batgirl's vision had cleared but the chemical now had her in its grip. Her body was numb and her arms and legs were trembling. With an enormous effort that left her gasping for air, she flipped over onto her back. She desperately reached for the communicator clipped to her belt but she could no longer feel her arms or hands. 

Quinn skipped back into view. "Naughty, naughty, girly girl," she said while wagging her finger. Quinn raised her foot and smashed her heel into Batgirl's stomach, then raised it and kicked Batgirl in the head. "We put a lot of effort into planning this little party and we don't want no-one crashing it." Quinn reached down and unhooked Batgirl's utility belt and tossed it aside.

Blackness was pawing at her vision and Quinn's kick had started a ringing in her ears, but Batgirl fought to stay conscious. She could see other figures now standing over her. Where had they come from? She squinted, trying to focus her blurring vision and identify the newcomers. Her stomach went cold when she saw who was looming above her. Killer Croc. Poison Ivy. Two-Face. The Ventriloquist. And if Harley Quinn was here that could only mean-

"We set a trap,  
for a rat,  
but instead,  
we caught a bat!" 

The warehouse was filled with mad, cackling laughter.

No . . . not the Joker . . .

Blackness swallowed Batgirl.


	2. Zephyr of Gotham

Consciousness returned slowly to Batgirl. She could feel herself lying on a cold wooden floor, her hands tied behind her. She shifted with a groan that turned to a hiss of pain when her naked breasts rubbed against the floor. Her costume had been ripped open on her chest. She felt a cool draft between her legs; her costume had been ripped down there, too. 

She shimmied onto her knees and pried her heavy eyelids open with a groan. She shut them again and gasped at the sudden painful light streaming into her eyes. She waited a moment, letting her eyes adjust, then slowly opened them again. She was no longer in the warehouse she had been ambushed in. It looked like she was in the basement of a building, with bare concrete walls and a hard wooden floor. 

"All right, boys! The entahtainment just woke's herself up. Time to start the party!"

Batgirl looked at the the voice that had just spoken. It was a miniature man! He was tiny, not even two feet tall and dressed like a . . . a gangster? And there was a person holding him? It hit her then, her drug-addled mind coughing up a name to go with the person. Scarface. But he wasn't a person - he was a doll. And the man holding him was Arnold Wesker, the Ventriloquist. Wesker was a small mousey white man with thinning hair and glasses. 

"Hey, we didn't roughs ya up too badly, did we?" Scarface asked. "We wouldn't ya hurts too bad to join in the fun. Not before the night even gets started." Wesker's voice throwing technique was absolutely flawless. There was no sign of his lips moving and Scarface's voice sounded like it was coming right from the doll's mouth. Batman had once speculated that Wesker's ventriloquism was an undetected meta-human power. 

"Oh, Batgirly here is a tough one," Harley Quinn said. She slipped in behind Batgirl and locked an arm around her throat. "She's got a nice, tough noggin, she does." Quinn knocked twice on the top of Batgirl's head. "Ain't nothing stopping her from enjoying the party." 

Batgirl struggled in Harley's grip, fighting to break free. "Let . . . go of mmee youh . . . bichhhh," Batgirl said. 

"That is not the proper way for a lady to be speaking."

Poison Ivy gracefully strode into the room and stood beside Batgirl. "Especially a lady who is the honored guest for the evening. Do you like the . . . attire I donned for the evening, Batgirl? I picked it out special just for you."

"Why, Pamela, my dear, it must be springtime!" Joker said. He was speaking from behind Batgirl. "Flowers are blooming, bees are buzzing, plants are growing." Joker glanced down towards Ivy's groin. "Other . . . 'things' seem to be growing as well. And, my, they seem to be growing rather well. What kind of fertilizer did you use on that monstrosity down there, Ivy?"

Ivy shot a venomous look at Joker. "I am already the seductress of any man I may encounter; now I am extending my conquests towards women."

"Woahs! What the fuck kinds of dame is you?" Scarface asked. "I seen you before, Red, and you didn't have no giant man-cock throbbing down between ya's legs. You're kind of a weirdo, ain't ya?"

"Don't listen to the tiny gangster with the man's hand up his bum, Pamela," Joker said. "I think you look sensational! I bet you'll be all the rage on the catwalks of gay Paree, come the fall season. Why, you'll start your very own fashion trend."

"Shut up, both of you," Ivy hissed at her tormentors. "Can we concentrate on what we're doing here? We've spent months planning this and it's time to enjoy the fruits of our labor." Ivy lightly ran a hand down Batgirl's face. "And what luscious fruits they are."

Batgirl angrily jerked her head away and tried to twist out of Harley's grasp. Harley squeezed Batgirl's throat with her arm, cutting off her air supply. Harley waited till Batgirl's face was red from lack of air before releasing the tension on her throat. Batgirl's head sank back against Harley's shoulder with a gasp and lay there, her eye's glazed and unfocused. 

"Ok, fellas, I think Batdyke is ready to get started," Harley said. 

"Why Harley, you little minx. We can't start the fun till all of our friends have arrived," Joker said. 

"Starting without us would have been a very bad mistake." Everyone turned to look at the gruff voice that had just spoken.

Two-Face was entering through the only doorway in the room, followed immediately behind him by Killer Croc. 

"I would have ripped your arms off and beat you to death with them," Killer Croc said. His voice was deep and rumbled like boulders crashing down a mountain. He had to duck coming through the door and his head brushed the ceiling when he was inside. 

Two-Face walked up and leered down at Batgirl, his eyes roaming her naked breasts. He turned and looked at Poison Ivy. "I don't know what I'm going to do tonight, Pamela. One half of me wants to rape her."

"What does the other half want?" Ivy asked.

"To really rape her. I can't decide, so I'm going to let the coin choose."

"Oh, there's a surprise," Joker said while rolling his eyes. "Tell me, Harv, does the coin decide everything for you? What to eat, what to wear, what kind of porn to watch? Well, obviously you watch inter-racial threesomes, but you get my point. Do you even let the coin decide whether you should clean your backside after using the 'loo?"

Two-face ignored Joker and took out his battered, double-headed coin. One side was clean and unblemished while the other side had crude scratches gouged into the surface. "This is how it goes, Red," Two-Face said to Batgirl. He held up the clean side of the coin. "If it comes up good heads, I'm gonna rape you." He flipped the coin over. "Bad heads and I'm really gonna rape ya." He expertly rolled the coin over his knuckles and flipped it with his thumb, then snatched it out of the air and slapped it down on the back of his other hand. He looked at the coin, then at Batgirl and gave an evil chuckle. Two-Face tucked the coin away inside his suit jacket. 

"I'll let you guess which side came up, Batgirl." 

"Are all the preliminaries out of the way, then?" Joker asked. "Anyone need to consult an Ouija board or check what lunar phase the moon is in or some such nonsense? No? All right then ladies and gentlemen . . ." Joker gave a quick look at Poison Ivy's newly-grown plant cock, " . . . and miscellaneous. Time to rock out with our cocks out!" He gave a short, cackling laugh. 

All of the men there unbuckled their pants and pulled out their erect cocks. "We's been planning this for a while, Batbroad," Scarface said. "So I had dummy here make me a special attachment just's for this here occasion." Wesker set the doll down and removed it's pants, then attached the specially carved wooden cock into the hole at the joining of Scarface's legs. Wesker picked the doll back up and turned him back toward Batgirl.

"Woah! Huh? What you guys think? Huh? Bet you're all jealous of me right now ain't ya's?"

"Why, you're practically a tripod, Scarface!" Joker exclaimed, his hands on his cheeks. "It must have cost a pretty penny to get that thing made. I'm impressed - shocked even." He put his hand on his chin and gave a thoughtful look at Scarface's massive wooden 'attachment.' "I think I'd like to buy one of those for myself and Harley here. Wherever did you acquire it?"

"I could tell's ya, but it wouldn't do ya no good, clown," Scarface said. "The artist and I had a falling out over the pricing. He wanted more than I could pay, so's he fell out a 27th-story window." Scarface laughed. 

"Oh, isn't that always how it goes," Joker said. "You've got your eye all set on that foot-long hand-carved wooden cock for the doll collection back home and the next thing you know, the guy's dead." He laughed. "Happens all the time around me. It's the damnedest thing, isn't it, Harley?"

"Sure thing, Mister J," Harley said. "People just don't appreciate your artisinal sensations like I do." 

"Can you all just shut up and get this started," Poison Ivy fumed. 

"Of course, of course, Pamela," Joker said. "I was thinking we could all form a conga line. We could play some music, do some dancing, make a little love, get down tonight. You know, that sort of thing."

"I ain't brings no dancing shoes clown," Scarface said. "And the dummy here is so bad at dancing he ain't got two left feet, he's got no feet at all."

"Wait a minute," Joker said, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Dancing? A conga line is the dancing one! I got that mixed up. Now, what is the other one called? The sex one? Where everybody takes turn getting a groove on with the lucky lady at the head of the line?" He scrunched his face up in a comical display of frustration. "No, no, don't tell me . . . hmm. No, I'm pulling a blank here. Somebody help me out."

"I think you mean a train, Mr. J," Harley said.

Joker snapped his fingers. "That's it! We need to form a rape train." He stroked the back of his hand down Harley's cheek. "Oh, Harley. You complete me."

Harley gazed at him, her eyes brimming with adoration. "Ahh, puddin'. You're the only clown for me."

"Choo, choo," Joker said while pretending to pull the cord on a train whistle. "All right everyone, last call for boarding for 'The Zephyr of Gotham' running express to Metropolis. Make sure you have tickets ready before boarding and have all your luggage safely stowed away." He leaned down and whispered into Batgirl's ear. "Best make yourself comfortable, miss. This train is running. All. Night. Long." He gave another mad, cackling laugh. 

"I go first," Killer Croc gruffly said as he pushed past Joker. "Head down, ass up, whore. And I'd think of something soothing if I were you. Now is a very bad time to tense up."

"Killer Croc, dear," Joker said while gazing at the massive, scaly cock that was about to mangle Batgirl's privates. "I think you're going to have to go last, I'm afraid. I've stuck my cock into ground beef enough times to know that it's not nearly as much fun as it sounds." He cackled with laughter. 

"You can rot in the shit-reeking pits of hell, Joker!" Croc roared. "You don't tell me what to do."

"Tell you what, Croc," Joker said. "Let's have a vote on it." He turned and addressed everyone in the group. "Everyone here who thinks Croc should go last, raise your hand and say 'Aye.'"

Everyone there, except Killer Croc - and Batgirl - raised their hands and said 'Aye.'

"You can all rot in hell right alongside Joker!" Croc said. He raised his hands and flexed his claws as thick muscle rippled along his arms. "If this is how you want to settle this, then let's settle-"

"Uh, uh, excuse me . . . ah Mister Croc, sir . . . " Everyone turned to look at Arnold Wesker who had just spoken. 

"What are you doing, dummy?" Scarface asked. "You got's some kind of death-wish don't ya?"

"No, Mister Scarface," Wesker said. "I was just thinking that Mr. Croc here could get first use of Batgirl's mouth while everyone else used her . . . other parts." Wesker cringed, expecting a harsh reply from Scarface or someone else in the room. 

"Well, what ya know, dummy. That ain't half bad," Scarface said. "Is this here plan good's with ya, Croc? Or are we gonna have to settle this the old-fashioned way?"

Croc stood a moment fuming, clenching and unclenching his fists. His cock was still outside his pants, rock-hard and throbbing, pulsing in time with his increased heart-rate. He gave a small nod. "That'll work." 

"All right, dummy! You did a good job coming up with that idea, there," Scarface said. "I'm gonna let you have a piece of Batgirly here, too, just for that. Wasn't going to before, but you earned it."

"Oh, thank you, Mister Scarface," Wesker said, his cheeks reddening from the unexpected praise. 

"But ya's gotta go last, though," Scarface said. "We's all put more work into this, so's we gets her first. Capisce?"

"Yes, sir, Mister Scarface. I understand completely," Wesker said. 

Croc moved to stand in front of Batgirl and grabbed her head. "Time to earn your keep, Batgirl. Open wide and say 'aaah.'" He thrust his cock against her closed lips and kept pushing as she refused to open her mouth. Croc laughed. "If I press hard enough I can break your jaw with it, whore. Now, open." 

Batgirl suddenly opened her mouth and bit down on Croc's penis with a snarl, her teeth sawing back and forth as she tried to do as much damage as possible. 

Croc laughed again. "That tickles." He pulled his cock out and gave Batgirl a wicked backhanded slap that left her ears ringing and her cheek red and bruised. "My cock is just as hard and scaly as the rest of my skin, bitch. I've shattered teeth with it and fractured pelvis' in half, on men and women. And if you don't want the same happening to you, you will open your mouth. And. SUCK." 

He thrust his cock into Batgirl's unresistant mouth and pushed forward until she gagged. He held it there as she struggled to breath around the massive member blocking her airway. Croc's giant hand and immense strength held her fast, unable to move away as Harley kept her body kneeling on the floor. Her face grew red as her struggles grew weaker. 

"I'll hold it in there until you start to suck it, Batgirl. I'll choke you to death with it if I have to," Croc said. 

Finally, right before she blacked out, Batgirl began sucking on the cock in her mouth. 

Croc withdrew far enough for Batgirl to take in several desperate gasps of air. "That's the spirit, Batgirl. Suck it like a vacuum cleaner. Use your tongue on the tip and don't be afraid to rub your teeth on it." He chuckled as he thrust his member back inside her mouth. "I ain't like most guys, sweetheart. I need something rough to get some good sensations down there." 

As the rape continued, Batgirl scanned the room looking for an escape, but there was nothing she could see that would help her. There was only one doorway into the room and the walls were all rough concrete. Batman must be out there looking for her, but without the tracker in her communicator he had no easy way of finding her. Her only hope was that Batman or another of his allies would find her in time to rescue her. She had to stay alive until then. Play her captors sick games and try to stall them and keep them here as long as possible. She squeezed her eyes shut as Croc kept pounding his cock back and forth inside her mouth. This was going to be a hellish ordeal. 

Croc thrust his member into Batgirl's mouth, cutting off her airway again. "I said SUCK, dammit." He poked a claw against her face, on the eyebrow above her right eye. "I've been nice up till now, whore. But if you keep fucking with me like this, I'm going to be extremely angry with you." He pressed his claw until a bead of blood formed and trickled down into Batgirl's eye. He withdrew and let her breath again. "No more chances. Do it right this time."


	3. 'We Used To Date'

Batgirl moaned as she shifted, her lower body and jaw a mass of aching muscles and stretched tendons. The thick taste of blood coated her tongue and her neck shot stabbing pains down her back, a sure sign of a serious injury. 

After his dire warning Croc had stuffed himself back into Batgirl's mouth so hard he'd knocked two of her teeth loose and pushed forward until she began to choke. 

"Suck it, Batgirl," Croc growled at her. "Suck it or I end this night for you right now. You want to live another couple of hours don't you?"

Batgirl had no choice but to do what he asked. She began sucking on the cock filling her mouth harder and harder, until her cheeks were being sucked in as she worked. 

"Aah, yes, that's it, Batgirl. Keep up that pace. Now run your teeth along it and don't be gentle."

She began running her teeth along the top and bottom of Croc's cock as he rocked his hips back and forth, his immensly strong hands holding firmly onto Batgirl's head. 

"Ok, yeah . . . yeah, keep going you slut . . . keep going, keep goooAAH."

Croc's cum had filled Batgirl's mouth with a rush of salty bitterness. The force and volume was enough to fill her mouth, spill out onto her chin and cheeks and force its way up her throat and out her nose. She gagged and tried to move her head away but Croc held it firm.

"Swallow it, whore. All of it you can handle."

Batgirl had no choice but to swallow and keep swallowing until enough of the disgusting material had been removed that she could breath. She gagged as Croc removed his cock with a wet slurp, rivulets of his grey cum and saliva connecting him to Batgirl's mouth. She gagged again as waves of naseau rolled through her and then she threw up what she had just swallowed on the floor. Her stomach and chest heaved until there was nothing left inside her to expel. 

The villains recoiled and turned their faces away from the sudden smell; except for Croc who laughed at the sight.

"I love it when that happens," Croc said between chuckles.

"Mama Mia, what a mess," Scarface said. "We'z better move her to the next room to get away from the smell. And Croc ain't going near her mouth no more."

Croc threw his head back and laughed. "I'm done with it, anyways. I'll be waiting for the rest of you to finish up." He then walked out of the room. 

Harley grabbed Batgirl under her armpits and dragged her into the next room through the door Croc had just exited. There was a large mattress lying on the floor, with no sheets or pillows on it. Batgirl was dumped onto the mattress with an oomph of breath escaping. 

Harley dusted her hands off. "All right ladies and germs. Who's up next?"

And with that Batgirl's ordeal continued. Her senses were dull from the knockout drug that had been used on her and Croc's rough handling, so the next few hours were just a blur to her. She heard the villains arguing about who should go next with Two-Face and Poison-Ivy both wanting the next turn. Eventually, they decided to double-team Batgirl since, as Poison-Ivy put it, "They used to date." 

Batgirl was bent over a table and then Two-Face took Batgirl from behind while Ivy picked Batgirl's aching, bleeding mouth. Since her plant cock was removable, Ivy wasn't worried about getting it messy. Batgirl was aware of Two-Face's mouth next to her ear, his breath hot and humid on her neck, as he growled "Bad luck, Batgirl. It came up bad-heads." He slapped the back of her head and thrust into her as he gave a harsh, guttural laugh. 

Ivy plunged into Batgirl's mouth at the same amount, the pain from Croc's earlier treatment making Batgirl scream. Ivy withdrew and slapped Batgirl across the face. "I haven't even started yet, darling. Save the screaming for after, when we're done having fun with you." All of the villains laughed as the rape continued and Batgirl struggled to stay silent through the agony being inflicted on her. 

Batgirl felt her mind slipping away, her conscious brain trying to shield itself from the mental trauma before it snapped. The rest of the night came to her in flashes of sights and sounds, viewed as if through a fog. 

Two-Face finished up with a gravelly groan, his hands digging into Batgirl's hips, leaving white imprints behind, as he pulled her into his groin. When Poison Ivy came, the cum from her plant-penis tasted of sap from a pine tree and left a sticky coating inside Batgirl's mouth. 

Scarface was brought over and his wooden dildo awkwardly inserted into Batgirl's anus by Wesker, who then began pumping the doll in and out while Scarface shouted abuse the whole time.

"No, not her asshole, dummy. The other one! The vagina, the pussy, her fun-hole, the thing you fell outta when you was born!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir."

Joker went next, thrusting into her with a mad laugh, while wearing a horn strapped to his thigh that emitted a honk every-time his hips slapped into Batgirl's. While Joker was busy behind her, Harley Quinn raped Batgirl's mouth while wearing a bright green and white strap-on.


	4. The Good(ish) Ending

After a length of time that lasted several hours or an eternity depending on the perspective of the participant, the villains had sated their lust on Batgirl.

Batgirl herself lay curled up on the mattress she had been raped on, her hands and legs bound, the various bruises and injuries inflicted on her body sending pulsing waves of pain throughout her body. Her wrists had been rubbed raw by the ropes binding them and she'd lost three teeth to Croc's rough-skinned cock. Several others felt loose when she probed them with her tongue. She was almost absurdly grateful that Croc had decided that raping her mouth twice was enough sexual activity for him. After Croc had finished for the second time, Harley Quinn had forced Batgirl to rinse her mouth out with mouthwash. The pain of the alcohol in the liquid had been excruciating, almost making her pass out. Now, the villains stood in a circle around her, debating what to do next.

Killer Croc drooled as he looked at Batgirl, saliva dripping onto his chest. "I'm famished after all this exercise. I think it's time for a bat-snack."

Two-Face hefted his ivory handled 1911 pistols. "How do you want it, Batgirl? I can make it quick or Croc can make it slow. Pick one."

"Well, fellas, let's not be too hasty here," Joker said. "I've been trying my routine on the poor girl the whole time and she hasn't given us a single laugh! Not a chuckle, a snort, a smile. Not even that douchey hipster thing, where you sniff and tilt your head back a little. I'm not sure how to get through to her. But we can't kill her till I get a laugh out of her."

"It's ok, Mistah J," Harley Quinn said, rubbing Joker's arm. "I thought you were hilarious. A real class act."

"Oh, you always do, Harley. I want other people to care about my work." Joker sighed. "I suppose this comedy act will end like all my others." Joker patted the pocket where he kept a spray-canister of his specially made Joker gas. "It may be the easy route, but at least I know I'll leave her with a smile on her face." He cackled with laughter. 

Poison Ivy sultrily walked to Batgirl's mattress and kneeled down, a glass of pink liquid in her hand. She had removed her plant-cock after finishing with Batgirl's mouth. "Take this, Batgirl. Rinse your mouth out with it, darling." Ivy grabbed Batgirl's hair and yanked her mouth towards the liquid. "This will make you feel better."

"No, gettth it awaysh from me," Batgirl said, her words slurred by the blood in her mouth. 

Ivy laughed. "This really will make you feel better, darling. I promise." 

Batgirl continued to struggle, keeping her mouth clamped shut. Ivy took a sip of the pink liquid and held it in her mouth. She clamped her lips to Batgirl's and used her tongue to pry them apart. She spit a little of the liquid inside Batgirl's mouth and then moved back. 

Batgirl spat out the small amount of liquid that had just entered her mouth, along with a frightening amount of blood. But, to her surprise, the liquid spread a soothing numbness in her mouth and staunched the bleeding from her missing teeth. 

"I brewed this up just for you, Batgirl. I knew a moment like this would come," Ivy said. She knelt down and helped Batgirl move to a kneeling position. She held the pink liquid up to Batgirl's lips again. "Drink it, darling." She brushed a stray lock of hair out of Batgirl's face and ran a nail along her jawline. "You'll feel much better. I promise," Ivy said in a low and throaty voice. 

Batgirl felt her skin tingling where Poison Ivy had touched her. She saw the look of lust on Ivy's face and was struck by how beautiful she was. Batgirl opened her mouth and Ivy tilted the glass carefully as Batgirl took small sips of the liquid. Batgirl moaned as the liquid left a trail of soothing numbness down her throat and spread into her stomach. She felt the aches and pains of her body fading away and a pleasant light-headedness spreading into her mind as she emptied the glass. 

Ivy stroked her nails through Batgirl's hair. "I know I was a bit . . . harsh with you earlier, darling. But I can be much nicer when I want to be. Much gentler." She gently kissed Batgirl and placed her lips right next to her ear. "Would you like me to show you," Ivy murmured. 

Batgirl felt like she was floating on a soft and warm cloud, the agonizing pain from her injuries having faded away. She leaned into Ivy and lay her head on Ivy's shoulder. "I would like that, Ivy," Batgirl whispered back. She smiled, a dreamy look on her face as Ivy began kissing her neck. 

"You're going to have to come with me, darling," Ivy whispered into Batgirl's ear. "And live with me for the rest of your life." Her hands moved and gently pinched Batgirl's nipples. "You'd like to live with me, wouldn't you?"

Batgirl gave a dreamy smile and moaned as Ivy tugged on her nipples. "Mmmmm, I would like that." Ivy and Batgirl locked eyes for a moment. 

"I knew you would, darling. And you'll be happy for the rest of your life - as long as I keep giving you my special potion." Ivy leaned in and kissed Batgirl, her tongue probing its way inside her mouth. 

"Hey! Who said you get to keep her all to yourself?" Two-Face asked. "I don't remember voting on it."

"Oh, relax, Harv," Ivy said. "I promise to share my new toy with the rest of you from time to time. 

Before any of the other villians could protest they were interrupted by a smashing sound, followed by the clatter of broken glass hitting the floor. An object had been tossed through a small window giving a view outside, located high up on the wall to Batgirl's left. There was a metallic clinking sound as the object rolled on the floor. 

Everyone in the room had a second to turn and look towards the sudden noise, when the object exploded with a loud bang and an intense flash of light, blinding everyone in the room. More objects were thrown through the window, this time expelling a trail of smoke, filling the room with a dense cloud. 

"It's Batman!" Two-Face yelled, his vision gone, as he stumbled towards the only staircase in the room. A second later there was a crackling sound of bone breaking, followed by a single gun shot and then the thud of Two-Faces body hitting the ground. 

"Batman's dead, you idiot," Poison Ivy yelled back, as she stood up and moved away from Batgirl. "This is someone els- nnnnnggg," Poison Ivy's voice was suddenly cut off, her words trailing off into a wet gurgle. 

Batgirl looked up dreamily as someone approached her through the smoke. Poison Ivy stumbled backwards and fell when her feet hit the mattress on the floor. She fell on top of Batgirl, knocking them both down onto the mattress, choking and gurgling, a metal crossbow bolt sticking out of her throat. Blood poured from the wound for a moment, sluicing through her fingers as she desperately tried to stem the flow, before rapidly trailing off. Ivy gave a final exhale, her breath rattling in her throat, and lay still. Batgirl tried to shift Ivy's dead body off of her, but her hands and legs were still bound together. As she moved, pain shot through her head from the injuries the villains had given her and she fell back on the mattress, but the potion Ivy had given her kept most of the agony at bay. Batgirl accepted the dead body lying on top of her with a calm detachment, her head too clouded to panic. She felt that she should be doing something at the moment, trying to free herself and escape, perhaps, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She lay back down and gave a sigh as events unfolded around her. 

Arnold Wesker moved timidly through the smoke as the puppet on his arm hefted a Tommy gun. He flinched when he heard Harley Quinn screaming through the smoke, a scream that was suddenly cut off by the sound of a fist impacting and breaking a jaw. 

"Let's go, dummy! Get us outta here," Scarface said.

A dark figure, dressed in a black outfit, was glimpsed for a split-second. Scarface pointed and fired his weapon but the person danced away, disappearing in the smoke. 

"Where's you at, Batman? We got your girl all warmed up for ya, if ya want to take a turn with her." Scarface laughed.

There was a whistling sound to Wesker's right, then an incredible blow to his right arm. He screamed and dropped Scarface, clutching at the Batarang sticking from his bicep. The dark figure glimpsed earlier was back, standing in front of him.

Wesker raised his left hand. "Wait, please, I give up!" A black eskrima stick smashed into his head, shattering his glasses and his right eye-socket. He fell and lay still. 

Killer Croc sniffed the air, his sensitive nose detecting spilled blood in the room. He'd heard Joker laughing a second ago and then a gurgling sound as if Joker were trying to breath through a shattered throat. Now, he could smell Batgirl's scent near the source of the blood. He moved towards the smell, intending to kill Batgirl before she could be rescued. He heard the soft snap of a crossbow firing, then a sharp pain in his chest as a crossbow bolt penetrated his thick skin. He ripped the bolt out and roared in anger. He ran towards the sound of the crossbow until he smelled a woman in front of him. Croc's fists punched out, trying to bludgeon the woman to the ground. He hit the wooden staircase instead, the wood splintering under his blow. The crossbow fired again and another bolt was lodged into Croc's arm. He turned and raised his arms to cover his face and neck. His vision was recovering and the smoke was clearing; in a second he'd be able to see who was tormenting him. He moved towards the scent of the woman, earning another bolt in his arm, when he smelled another unknown person in the room. He could tell this one was also a woman. 

He smiled. Female flesh was the most succulent and he was going to have a raving hunger when this was over.

A shrieking, ear-splitting sound split the air in the room, a physical wave of noise that cleared the smoke from the air in the room. Killer Croc was hit by the wave of noise and flung backwards, his hands slapping against his knees as he flew through the air. He smashed through the wooden door to the room where Batgirl had first awoken and kept flying until he hit a concrete wall. The wall cracked under the impact and Croc fell to the floor with a thud. A final crossbow bolt hit the bottom of his foot, punching through his thick sole to end up poking out the top.

"That should keep the bastard down," Huntress said as she quickly and efficiently reloaded her crossbow. She reached up and removed the thermal goggles from her face that had allowed her to see through the smoke. "Good work, Canary."

"Thanks," Canary whispered back, her voice raspy from using her power. She'd removed her goggles just before using her power to keep the intense, high-pitched noise from shattering the expensive equipment. "Where's Nightwing?"

Nightwing was just then removing Poison Ivy's body from its position on top of Batgirl. He used a batarang to cut the ropes from her arms and legs.   
"Barbara, can you hear me? Are you all right?" Nightwing asked, as he cradled Batgirl in his arms. 

Batgirl smiled dreamily up at him and stroked the side of his face. "You killed them, Dick. You killed Joker and Harley Quinn and Two-Face and Scarface and Four-Eyes." She giggled. "And Huntress killed Ivy. Why did you do that, that's so bad to do?" She giggled again. 

"They wanted a war, Barbara, and they got one. You've been drugged." Nightwing stood up and swiftly moved towards the exit. "Huntress, Canary, we have to clear this area ASAP." 

The two female heroes moved ahead of Nightwing as he ran up the stairs with Batgirl. They exited the house where Batgirl had been moved after being captured at the dockyard and ran past the limp bodies of the hoodlums that had been standing guard outside. The house was located in a dilapidated neighborhood on the outskirts of Gotham and the early morning hours meant the streets were deserted. The trio hustled out into the empty streets and ran a few blocks to the nondescript van they had used as transport. 

Huntress grabbed the driver's seat and Nightwing and Black Canary took the back with Batgirl. Huntress quickly removed her mask and cape, then threw on a black t-shirt and hat so anyone driving by would see just another Gothamite out on the early-morning roads. Tires screeched as the van pulled away, Huntress heading towards a safe house Batman had set up years ago for emergency situations. Nightwing and Canary began cleaning and bandaging Batgirl's wounds with a simple med-kit that had been thrown in the back of the van earlier that night, before the desperate search to find Batgirl had begun. 

Canary grabbed Huntress' cape and covered Batgirl with it, then took Batgirl's head in both hands and looked her in the eyes. "Listen to me, Babs. You're safe, now. We're going to get you cleaned up in here and when we get to the safe-house we'll get you an antidote to Ivy's drug." She kissed Batgirl's forehead. "Everything's going to be all right."

Batgirl's mind had cleared a little from Ivy's potion and she took a moment to look around. She didn't see the one person she had expected to see. "Where's . . . where's Batman?" Batgirl saw the quick look Canary and Nightwing shared. A stab of fear shot up her spine and she grabbed Canary's hands. "Where is Batman?"

"Please, Babs, just lay back and let Dick get you cleaned up. Ok?" The van was rocked by a slight jolt as it rolled over a pot hole. 

"No," Batgirl said. "Where is he?" The fuzziness of Ivy's potion had been burned off by the sudden fear-induced jolt to her mind. She squeezed Canary's hands tighter. "Tell me where he is, right now."

Canary paused a second. She looked down, then back up. She met Batgirl's wide-open eyes. "Batman's dead, Barbara."

"No. I just saw him not even twelve hours ago. He can't be dead." Batgirl shook her head. "You're wrong."

"Bruce is dead, Barbara," Nightwing said. "That person you saw in the Batcave was Clayface."

"How do you know? How can you know that?" Canary pushed Batgirl's back down as she struggled to get up.

"He tried to kill me tonight," Nightwing said. "He lured me into an ambush by pretending to be Bruce." He paused a moment, a tear leaking down his face. "I'd be dead if I hadn't asked Huntress and Canary to come along with me." 

"That doesn't mean Bruce is dead! I mean, how do you know? He could be held captive like I was!" Batgirl was beginning to hyperventilate and her heart was pounding in her chest. 

"Babs, please, you have to relax," Canary said. She moved around behind Batgirl and pushed her head down and cradled it in her lap. "It's going to be ok." Canary stroked Batgirl's forehead. "You're going to be ok." 

"We saw his body, Barbara," Nightwing said. "All three of us. Clayface wanted to taunt me with it before he killed me." He sobbed and let his head drop. He closed his eyes for a second, the memory of seeing his dead mentor twisting his face with grief. "He's dead. There's no doubt about that." He went back to bandaging Batgirl. 

The van drove on into the dark Gotham streets, undisturbed except for the occasional stoplight, the sun just beginning to brighten the skies.


	5. The Bad Ending

After a length of time that lasted several hours or an eternity depending on the perspective of the participant, the villains had sated their lust on Batgirl.

She lay curled up on the mattress she had been raped on, her hands and legs bound, the various bruises and injuries inflicted on her body sending pulsing waves of pain throughout her body.

The villains had been arguing over what to do with her, now that the fun was over. Killer Croc wanted to eat her - literally. Two-face wanted to shoot her, Joker to ‘leave a smile on her face’ with his Joker-gas, Scarface didn't seem to care what happened with the brutalized hero and Poison Ivy? Poison Ivy had her own plans. 

"Boys, boys, boys,” Ivy chided. “Typical. None of you can think past sating your own short-term desires. I have a plan that ensures everyone will get to enjoy the pleasures of this young lady’s company for years to come.”

"I'll shnever go with yoush, bish," Batgirl said, blood in her mouth slurring her words. 

Ivy sighed. "I knew you'd be difficult about this, darling. You really shouldn't be so mad at me, you know. I'm the only one that's trying to save your life right now."

"Fugh you"

Ivy shook her head and let out another dramatic sigh. "Terrible manners on our guest, just deplorable. Luckily, I knew she was going to be difficult about this, which is why I brewed up some of my potion Number Nine." Ivy held up a clear plastic bottle with a pink liquid inside. “You must be aching from all the ‘exercise’ you’ve just had, darling.” Ivy kneeled down in front of Batgirl and grabbed her hair. “Just take a sip and all your troubles will fade away like they never existed.” She flipped the tab off the bottles lid and held it up to Batgirl’s lips. 

Batgirl spit in Ivy’s face, the blood in her mouth spattering in droplets that left red trails on Ivy's cheeks as they dripped down towards the floor. 

Ivy licked the blood on her lips and giggled. “I suppose I should have expected that.” She slapped Batgirl across the face, viper-quick, her hand making a sharp crack when it connected. She followed with a solid punch into Batgirl’s stomach, the hero's mouth forming on 'O' as she went oof and doubled over Ivy's fist. Ivy yanked Batgirl’s head back up by her hair and pressed the bottle to her lips. 

“Drink it, hero. This is the only way you walk out of this room alive.”

Batgirl stubbornly held her lips closed, trying to pull away from Ivy’s firm grip. 

“Do you understand what’s going to happen to you if you don’t drink this? Truly understand it? Croc over there wants to eat you. And not in a good way. Your friends aren’t going to burst through the door in a last minute rescue. They don’t even know where you are.” Ivy pressed the bottle harder against the hero’s lips, the skin turning white under the pressure. “I am the only thing standing between you and a horrible, agonizing death. And all I’m asking you to do is drink this potion." Ivy smiled, the droplets of blood still spattered on her face making her look insane. "Which actually will make you feel much better, I promise.”

Batgirl squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't deny the truth of Ivy’s words. This wasn’t like all the times she’d fought these villains before. Someone must be forcing them to work together, they simply hated each other too much to form a team like this willingly. They were too organized, their trap had been too well laid for escape to be a realistic possibility. But she also knew that there would be no chance of resistance on her part after drinking Ivy’s potion. She would be Ivy’s drug-addled slave until someone managed to rescue her.

Or a slave until she died.

“Drink it. Last chance. And then I throw you to the wolves, my dear. And one very hungry crocodile.”

With a tiny sob she relaxed in Ivy’s grip and slowly, oh so slowly, opened her mouth. Tears leaked out from under her eyelids.

“There we are, love. Now just sip it slowly, that’s a good pet.”

The liquid was sweet and cool as it slid down her throat.

“It’s pink lemonade. My favorite. With a little something extra mixed in.” 

When it hit her stomach a warmth began to flow through her body, the pains of the brutal rape fading away. The bleeding in her mouth stopped and Batgirl smiled dreamily as she finished the last of the bottle.

“Hmmmm,” she moaned with pleasure.

Ivy stroked her hair. “There, now. That’s better, isn’t it?” She spoke slowly, her voice a husky whisper. 

“Much better.” Batgirl leaned forward and rested her head on Ivy’s shoulder.

“I want you to call me Mistress from now on. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Very good, pet.” She kissed Batgirl’s neck, then turned to the others. “It’s time for the next phase of our little plan, boys.”

Years Later:

Poison Ivy smiled as she watched the entertainment before her. Three writhing, naked beauties panted and stroked and rubbed each other in a sapphic display. Harley Quinn gave a gasp, a shudder and a quiet, deep moan as she gripped the red hair of the woman’s head buried between her legs. Harley's orgasm was in complete contrast to her normal hyper-extroverted personality; one of the side effects of her total addiction to Ivy's Potion Number Nine.

If Ivy had one regret about the events of the last few tumultuous years, with the overthrow of the Justice League and the conquering of the world by Lex Luthor and the members of his Secret Society, of which the villain's capture of Batgirl had been a small part, it was what had happened to Harley. 

The fighting between the assembled heroes and super-villains of the planet had started in the United States, with a group led by Luthor himself looting and burning the Justice Society of America’s building in Metropolis. But it had rapidly expanded to every continent and nearly every major city on Earth. The fighting had even spread into outer space, with the Justice League’s base on the Moon being annihilated by a nuclear strike and a detachment sent by the Green Lantern Corps ambushed and destroyed past the orbit of Mars. Luthor had used a boom tube to accomplish that last trick, with a strike force led by Sinestro teleporting onto the surface of Mars before intercepting and murdering the ten Lanterns sent to help save the world from Luthor’s conquest. 

The fighting had raged for most of a year and ended with total victory for the Secret Society. With the world now firmly under his control Luthor had set about rebuilding the ruins of Earth's shattered cities and co-opting or removing anyone that might pose a threat to his lifelong rule. The Joker had been near the top of that list. The clown was far too erratic to control and his homicidal antics were a constant interruption to the rigidly enforced order Earth’s new dictator had imposed upon all of his subjects. 

Luthor had given Ivy the task of disposing of Joker. “I have a new task for you, my lovely. Do it and prove your loyalty to your new monarch and leader,” Luthor had said. He’d sent her a video message from his Panopticon, his new headquarters built on the site of the Justice League’s destroyed Watchtower on the Moon. “Kill the clown and I’ll give you the pick of my harem. Anyone you want.” He’d been wearing his signature green war-suit, only his bald head uncovered, with the purple glow of the new force-fields he had added to it reflecting off the cybernetic parts Luthor had grafted onto his face as injuries during the fighting took their toll. He’d taken to wearing the cape he had torn from Superman’s body after stabbing him through the heart with a kryptonite tipped spear and it's tattered and scorched remnants hung from his shoulders in the video. Luthor never took his war-suit off, his paranoid mind too afraid of assassination attempts. Ivy hadn't seen him without it since the fighting started. As far as she knew, he ate, slept and fucked while wearing it. 

Ivy had detested the smug smile look on Luthor's face and would have killed anyone else who dared to speak to her like that. But she had no choice. Luthor was in power for good this time. There were no superheroes left to overthrow him; all of them dead or captured and turned into docile slaves. Every villain who had the resources, the influence, or the power to be a threat were all gone. Brainiac, Vandal Savage, Gorilla Grodd, Ra's Al Ghul . . . anyone who Luthor had considered a potential rival had been killed by him and the loyal members of his Secret Society, destroying a good portion of the planet in the process.

He even had Darkseid as a nominal ally; Luthor giving the alien despot some of his meta-human lackeys to use as mercenaries in the never-ending battle against New Genesis in return for advanced technology. But everyone knew it was only a matter of time until that alliance was shattered. When the inevitable split happened and Darkseid ended up as Luthor's foe, Ivy knew where her loyalties would lie. Superman and the Justice League had fought and defeated Darkseid and his minions countless times. And Luthor was the man who had beaten them. She might hate his guts, but when the next war came Ivy would be fighting for him, not against him. She liked living too much to do otherwise. 

Killing Joker had turned out to be easy. She had set up a meeting with Harley, just two old friends who wanted to spend time together and told Harley to keep it a secret from Joker. A secret that she failed to keep, just like Ivy knew she would. When he showed up, Ivy killed Joker by the simple expedient of twisting his neck using a mass of vines she controlled with her powers. Harley snapped and tried to kill her after that, of course, but Ivy had given her a huge dose of Number Nine and brought her back to the greenhouse in Gotham she called home. Harley had been kept docile with the potion ever since. 

It was a shame. Ivy had wanted to keep at least one true friend around, someone who's wits weren't addled that could be relied on in an emergency. She had hoped Harley could be that friend, but it just hadn't worked out. The only way she had found to keep Harley from killing Ivy or herself was through constant doses of her potion. She had been on it for so long her mind had been permanently altered. Harley now lived life through a drugged haze, her memory mostly gone. She quite literally didn’t know if it was day or night and she required constant watching by Ivy’s other pets. 

She left Harley, Batgirl and Zatanna to their playtime and and moved to the special room that had been prepared for her newest guest. The room was easy to find. She simply followed the sound of the screams. Inside she saw Huntress attending to the task Ivy had given her of breaking in the new guest. Huntress wore her purple and white costume, with a cape and mask, while the guest wore nothing but whip marks and shackles. Huntress was enthusiastically flogging the guest who had been stripped and strung up in the room, her hands stretched and shackled above her head and her ankles chained to the floor. The guest’s back was a mass of red welts and bleeding marks where Huntress was whipping it raw. 

Huntress stopped when she saw Ivy enter the room. She gave a happy smile and said “Mistress.” She walked over and fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around Ivy in a hug as she pressed her cheek against her stomach, her eyes shut and a contented look on her face.

“Have you been having fun, pet?”

“Oh, yes Mistress. So much fun. Thank you for giving me this gift.”

Ivy ran her hands through Huntress’ thick black hair. She loved the feel of it running through her hands and stroked it every chance she got. Huntress made sure to take as good a care of her hair as she did her body, knowing how it pleased Ivy. 

Ivy had worried that Huntress, right after her capture during the fighting that had reduced much of Gotham to rubble, was going to become as drug-addled and confused as Harley. She fought against her enslavement and refused to take her Number Nine doses willingly; Ivy had to use her plants to grab hold and then pumped the potion through a tube inserted into Huntress’ nose. But then she’d had a moment of inspiration. Huntress had made it her mission in life to punish criminals, like the criminals that her parents had been and the criminals that had taken her parents’ lives. So Ivy gave Huntress the chance to punish criminals. With the chaos in the wake of Luthor’s conquest, there were plenty of opportunities for that. And so Gotham, once more, had a dark vigilante prowling the streets at night dispensing violent justice. 

Which brought Ivy to her current guest.

“Ivy, for God’s sake, it was just a plant!”

“It wasn’t just a plant, Selena. It was an Encephalartos Woodii, the rarest plant in the world. All you had to do was bring me back the seedling I asked you to retrieve. But instead you let it fall to the floor and die because you wanted to make room in your bag for some shiny trinkets.”

“God, Ivy, please . . . I’m begging you. I’ll get you another one, God, I swear I will.”

“There are no more! Every last member of the species was destroyed in the fighting. So, congratulations, Selena. You committed genocide, you monster.”

“Ivy . . .” Catwoman sobbed. “There has to be something I can do to make it up to you . . . something, anything! We’re friends aren’t we?”

“We are friends. Which is why I’m not going to kill you. And we’re going to stay friends after this. Very close friends.” She stroked her hand through Huntress’ hair again. “Give her another ten minutes with the lash, pet. Then give her a dose of Number Nine. You may beat her until she drinks it. If she dies rather than drink it it will be no great loss.”

“Yes, Mistress”

Ivy walked away, smiling at the sound of the sobbing and pleading behind her, sounds that were soon replaced by screams. She had another pet to check on before she could relax for the day. She entered another room, this one containing two metal cages located at opposite ends with the usual covering of vines and plants that ran throughout her entire hideout crawling over the floor, walls and ceiling. On a wall hung two green street signs, with 34th Street written on one and Vine Boulevard on the other. A policeman's cap was on a peg just below them with a kiss outlined in red lipstick on the brim. 

One of the cages held a woman who had been caught spreading anti-Luthor propaganda by the regime’s secret police force, the Interior Ministry. She had been slated for execution when Ivy had asked Luthor for a subject for a ‘special experiment.’ The other cage held Black Canary, Ivy’s reward for killing Joker. She had been wearing her costume when locked inside three days ago, but now lay naked and sweating on the floor, her clothing torn off in a spasm of pain and screaming.

 

“You’re in the final stages of withdrawal, Dinah. I’m amazed you’ve lasted this long but you’re not going to make it through the night. Your cells are starting to die from the lack of my potion, pet. Just press the button and save yourself.”

A muted sob came from the woman in the other cage followed by a buzzing sound and a short yelp of pain as the metal collar the woman wore shocked her. Ivy had set the collar to ‘mute’ after the first day of the experiment, when the woman’s begging and pleading had grown too annoying to bear. 

“I . . . won’t . . . do it,” Canary gasped, laboring for breath as her body began to slowly and painfully shut down. “Rather . . . die.”

“Yes . . . you really would rather die than kill an innocent to save yourself,” Ivy mused. She had a slight smile on her face as she contemplated the dying Canary. “Even from a death as long and agonizing as this.” Three days ago Ivy had set up this experiment with Canary - who Ivy considered the strongest of her slaves - to see how far she could push the ex-hero to satisfy the cravings of Number Nine. The woman in the other cage wore a metal collar with a small bomb attached to it. In Canary’s cage there was a red button on the floor. Pressing it would detonate the bomb and open her cage, allowing Canary to reach the bottle of Number Nine potion sitting on the floor just out of her reach. 

“You realize nobody's ever going to know about this,” Ivy said. “You’ll die and there will be no-one to tell your noble story. And I’ll simply kill that woman after you die.” There was another sob followed by an electric buzz. “Really, you won’t accomplish anything with your death. It will be totally pointless.”

“Don’t . . . care.”

Ivy stayed silent for a long minute, contemplating her defiant slave. “I picked you for this experiment because I thought you were the strongest among my pets.” She smiled. “I’m happy to have been proven right.” She walked over to Canary’s cage and slipped a slender leg through the bars and pressed the button with her foot. The other woman screamed and kept screaming through the pain of the collar shocking her for several seconds, then abruptly fell silent. 

Ivy rolled her eyes and sighed. “You’re not dead, woman. The bomb in the collar is fake, so you can quit your crying.”

The door to Canary’s cage had swung open when Ivy pressed the button. Ivy gestured to the small bottle of Number Nine on the floor. “It’s all yours, pet. Salvation awaits. But first you need to drink up.”

Canary looked at the bottle and then at the woman in the other cage as if to double-check that the bomb hadn’t really exploded. A moment’s pause was broken when she began to shakily crawl towards the life-saving potion, gasping from the exertion. She collapsed to the floor, utterly exhausted before she had even left the cage. “Can’t . . . reach it . . . Mistress.”

Ivy grabbed the bottle, twisting the top off and helped Canary take her first sip. She then helped Canary sit up, her back resting against the bars of the cage. Ivy handed the bottle to Canary. “Just sip it slowly, Dinah.” She brushed Canary’s blonde hair, ragged and limp from three days of cold sweats, out of the way so Canary could take another sip.

Ivy walked over to the cage holding the other woman. The vines in the floor and ceiling began to writhe as she took hold of them with her powers. “I promise never to test you like this again, Dinah.” The woman in the cage scrambled away as the vines reached her, but there was nowhere for her to hide. The woman screamed, briefly, the sound cut off with the abrupt crack of her neck snapping.

Canary paused, the bottle held to her lips as she watched the vines move the woman’s limp body out of the cage. 

“I’ll find something for you to do, just like Huntress, pet.” 

Canary kept the bottle pressed to her lips, a pain that went far past the physical on her pale face and tears leaking from her eyes. The bottle fell for a moment, still clutched in her hands. She raised it and took another sip. 

“Thank you, Mistress,” she whispered.


End file.
